


Silver

by wheel_pen



Series: Loose Gems [11]
Category: Moulin Rouge! (2001), Original Work
Genre: F/M, Slavery, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3890725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slave with amnesia is confronted by his true identity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things.   
> Inherent in slavery and other forms of subjugation are dubious consent, unhealthy relationships, and violence.  
> I hope you enjoy this original work, which was inspired by many different stories.
> 
> Visual reference:  
> the Empress--Nicole Kidman  
> Silver--Ewan McGregor

            “After five years, our physicians do not predict any improvement in his condition,” the Empress reminded her guest as they walked down the marble hallway.

            The older man pulled at his stiff collar, uncomfortable in the heat and humidity of the jungle country, then tried to disguise the movement. “With all due respect, Your Imperial Majesty,” he replied a bit crisply, “ _our_ doctors are quite optimistic about his chances for recovery, should he be reminded of his true identity.”

            “Lord Falthingcourt.” The Empress’s commanding tone stopped her guest in his tracks as she turned to face him. “Please remember that until the results of the DNA tests are returned, we cannot be certain of his ‘true identity.’” The older man couldn’t help but nod in agreement when he saw the expression in her ice-blue eyes. “You will respect our physician’s request to reveal as few details as possible about the life of your missing person?”

            It was phrased as a question, but Lord Falthingcourt knew a Royal Command when he heard one. “Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” he assured his hostess.

            “Good.” The Empress gave him a quick flash of a smile, then continued walking a few more steps until they reached a heavy wooden door. She nodded at two men stationed on either side, who immediately leapt to open it. The room beyond—also white marble, shot through with blue and good—was surprisingly cool, sparsely decorated with potted greenery and furniture. Unusual sculptures sat discreetly in the corners and the walls were hung with a variety of paintings, weavings, and other artwork.

            Lord Falthingcourt barely glanced at the room’s design, however; he was too busy scanning the shadows for the young man he had come to see. A movement to his left caught his eye and he turned to see a figure dressed in a dark suit sink to his knees on the floor, head bowed.

            The Empress smiled again, an expression that seemed to light her porcelain skin from within. She drifted gracefully over to the kneeling man, her pale pink gown trailing silently over the floor. She ran her fingers through his dark hair, just for a moment, then tipped his face up to hers. The uncertainty showed plainly in his storm-grey eyes and she caressed his jaw reassuringly. “Don’t worry, my darling,” she told him in her native language, then added in English, “You have a visitor, Argen.”

            The Empress moved off to the side, tucked out of the way she hoped, and watched her companion slowly stand and face their guest. The older man stood frozen in place for a moment, staring at the face he had been missing for so many years, then approached him as if in a dream. Silver shifted uncomfortably under this appraisal and glanced back over his shoulder at the Empress, who smiled encouragingly.

            “Michael,” Lord Falthingcourt gasped out when he finally stopped in front of the younger man.

            “M’lord,” the Empress warned in a low voice.

            “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he replied quickly, his usually unflappable demeanor a bit shaky for the moment. “It’s just that he—“ The older man sighed, crossed his arms, uncrossed them. His reaction was making Silver even more nervous.

            “M’lord,” the dark-haired man greeted, bowing formally to the titled superior.

            “Do you—do you remember me, lad?” Lord Falthingcourt asked with a strange mixture of hesitation and tenderness.

            Silver paused a moment to scan the face of the 60ish man, but he already knew what his answer was going to be. Dropping his eyes respectfully he replied, “No, sir.”

            Disappointment was apparent in the older man’s brown eyes, but he struggled to smile anyway. “Not even a little bit?” he prodded good-naturedly.

            Silver shook his head. “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

            “Now then, there’s no reason to be sorry, is there?” Lord Falthingcourt insisted. He reached out to touch the younger man’s arm and Silver fought the urge to shy away, which would have been quite rude.

            “Lord Falthingcourt is searching for a young man who was lost while on a trip to Greece five years ago, Silver,” the Empress explained.

            “I think—I think my search is over,” the older man added. He blinked away the tears that were beginning to form. Even after five years, there was no way he could be mistaken—the young man had grown up some, of course, but there was no doubt in the visitor’s mind as to his identity.

            “We must wait for the test results to determine that,” the Empress repeated coolly.

            “There can be no doubt, Your Majesty,” Lord Falthingcourt insisted. “This is Mi—the person we’ve all been searching for. I watched him grow up, I would know him anywhere!”

            “Nonetheless,” the Empress responded firmly, “we _will_ wait for confirmation before making any decisions. Or telling anyone,” she added pointedly.

            “But Your Majesty,” he countered, “the boy—his family is waiting anxiously for news. I have been instructed to tell them what I’ve discovered—“

            “You’ve discovered nothing yet,” the Empress replied, her temper rising, “except that Argen looks—in your mind—like someone you haven’t seen for five years.” The chill in her blue eyes was palpable. “If you wish to give the waiting family expectations which you may not be able to fulfill, that is _your_ business. But I will not have _Argen’s_ hopes raised any farther than necessary.”

            Silver glanced back and forth between the other two as they argued. The older man looked a bit stern, but Silver saw the gentleness in him easily enough—he looked like the commanding, slightly intimidating grandfather. But all the kindness in the world couldn’t make any old memories suddenly float back into Silver’s brain.

            It was, of course, terribly important to Silver to find out who he was, to see his family again. At least, it _ought_ to be, he decided. He’d read many stories about other amnesiacs; it was an imprecise condition and everyone’s case seemed to be different. Still, most amnesiacs remembered their old lives over time, or at least had flashes of memory. Silver had none of those. As it turned out, those flashes of memory seemed to only _torment_ most people, so Silver supposed he was actually _lucky_ to have avoided them. But the result was that Silver did not feel compelled to discover his “true identity,” especially not now when he had been living with his new identity so happily for so long. The prospect of finding out who he “really” was both excited and frightened him at this point.

            “Lord Falthingcourt.” The Empress had a way of just saying a person’s name that fully conveyed rebuke and disapproval. “You agreed to abide by _my_ terms when you were allowed to enter _my_ country. And I will _not_ have you filling Argen’s head with stories he might confuse with memories.” Her gaze softened as she regarded her guest. “I know you have been waiting anxiously for a very long time for news of your missing person. But in just a few days, we will all know for certain, and then we can decide what happens next.”

            Lord Falthingcourt did not look entirely pleased with this plan, but he had been too long a courtier to argue it further. Instead he nodded graciously and replied, “Of course, Your Majesty.”

            “In the meantime,” the Empress continued, “perhaps Argen could show you the person he’s _become_ over the past five years.”

            The time the older man’s smile was genuine. “I would indeed appreciate that, Your Majesty.”

            “Argen, maybe you could show our guest the workshop and introduce him to the artists,” the Empress suggested, her pale fingers curling in a most familiar way around the young man’s elbow.

            “Yes, Your Majesty, of course,” Silver agreed quickly, but he was preoccupied by a nagging thought. “Empress, may I ask Lord Falthingcourt a question?”

            The Empress hesitated for a moment, but she could never deny that look in his eyes. “Just one.”

            “M’lord,” he began tentatively, after nodding his thanks to his mistress, “this person you think I am… is he—married?”

            Lord Falthingcourt was clearly not expecting this question—and neither was the Empress, who blushed faintly and dropped her gaze, though she still smiled. “Why no, you—he isn’t,” he replied, and some of the tension drained from Silver’s shoulders.

            “Thank you, m’lord,” he smiled shyly. After a brief pause he added, “Would you like to see the workshop now?”

            “I certainly would,” the older man responded happily.


End file.
